I won't be the one to disappoint you anymore
by ironicallynameless
Summary: My first primeval fic and songfic. Abby's musings on her and Connor's realtionships based on the song 'Love's not a competition'. Please check it out!


**Hey, so this is all a bit new for me, my first primeval fic and my fist songfic, but y'know they always say trying something new is good – unless the something new is olives in which case it is very, very bad. Anyways, please don't murder me if it's absolute crap, if you don't like it, it would be really good if you could y'know point out where I'm going wrong and stuff. Err, so yer, I was listening to _'Loves not a competition' _by Kaiser Chiefs (well actually Paramore's cover, though I'm not getting into the whole who does it better thing) and thought it kind of fit Abby and Connor's relationship, so I gave this a go.**

**Please R&R and enjoy (hopefully),**

**El x**

**Disclaimer – I own nothing! (a lie, I have a bed and a clock…)**

* * *

_I won't be the one to disappoint you anymore,_

"I almost lost you today Abs."

I can hear from the catch in his voice that he won't leave it there. I can't deal with it right now. I've gone over and over in my head and I know that it wouldn't work. I can't keep building him up with little bits of hope only to disappoint him. So, in a vain attempt to diffuse his imminent plea I paste a smile on my face and retort,

"But you didn't did you," turning away from him as my smile falters, and only just managing to keep my tone light I add, "Can't get rid of me that easily."

I close my eyes, begging that he'll leave it there. But the warmth of his hand round mine, his cautious gentle touch and the comfort that it normally brings is instead replaced with a sinking feeling in my stomach as I know what will come next.

"Abby…I-I-"

_I know, I've said all this and that you've heard  
It all before_,

I turn my head to look at him, trying to project a look of steely finality that is just not echoed in my heart,

"Connor don't. We've been through this, I love you, but as a mate; my best friend but no more, yeah?"

He sighs, quietly, even now trying to spare me from the hurt of his disappointment. I start to relax, calm now I've averted another wave of guilt and doubt, that is until he starts, softly, "It's just-"

_The trick is getting you to think that all this was your idea_.

I conceal a groan, why does he have to care so much? I struggle to keep the frustration from my voice and he senses it almost flinching as I speak, "-Hey! Con, come on, you said your self that friends was good. You said it made things less complicated. You said it would never work." There's a cruel accusation every time I say 'you' and he crumples as I say it.

I hate using his own words against him, words he only said to stop me feeling guilty, words he said with that stupid grin on his face; the one he always wears when he's trying to pretend it doesn't matter. I hate making out that in some obscure way it's his fault that we're nothing more than friends, 'coz I can't even kid myself that that's true.

_And that this was everything you've ever wanted out of here,_

The silence is more painful than the pleading words.

"Anything good on telly tonight?" I ask half to distract him and half because I want to cheer him up and know full well that one of the Star Wars movies is on tonight.

"Well…I think I read something about 'Return of the Jedi' being on." Dejected as he is there's a sly note in his voice as he realises how he might just be able to use his current predicament to his advantage.

I sigh over-dramatically and roll my eyes, "Put it on then."

There's a few seconds of disbelief before he begins frantically scrambling about for the remote. On finding it he's switched to the right channel instantly, abandoning any pretence that he just _"read something about it"._

I lay my head on his chest and resign to the movie trying to get interested so as not to insult Connor by falling asleep halfway through. After a few minutes I feel Connors arm gingerly placed over my shoulders, and, as I don't refuse, hear a small contented sigh which makes me smile.

_Love's not a competition but I'm winning._

Why do I always have the upper hand, why do I have to cut him down, why does he always lose and I always win?

_  
I'm not sure what's truly altruistic anymore,_

It's late in the evening, I've been shopping and, having rewarded a months hard work with several new pairs of jeans am in a pretty good mood. I unlock the door, calling to let Connor know I'm home. As I lean down to greet Rex, Sid and Nancy respectively I hear a sort of clatter from the kitchen. A little bewildered I walk into the kitchen to see Connor quickly sit down at the chair and continue to eat his dinner. Truly confused it's only when I look and see what and how Connor is eating that I understand; putting the clattering down to Connor's attempt to hide what he was doing before I saw.

I take a seat across from him and watch as he continues to eat with difficulty, but avoids my gaze. Eventually the blush on Connor's cheeks gets to me and I ask, "Connor, what are you doing?"

For someone so smart the guy has no clue when it comes to self preservation as he simply remarks, "What?" while still refusing to meet my eyes.

"You're eating curry with a knife Con, just a knife."

He looks down at the table and mutters, "We had no other cutlery."

Puzzled I ask, "Where did it all go?"

"Dirty."

I can't stifle my laugh at this classic Connor thought process, "Couldn't you have washed some?"

"Thought using a knife would be less hassle." He's silent then, even when the piece of chicken that he's managed to skewer falls back onto his plate, before he can put it in his mouth, and splatters curry sauce over his face. He doesn't make a move to wipe it off. I know he's waiting for the onslaught of teasing, but, feeling he's suffered enough I restrain myself.

_When every good thing that I do is listed and you're keeping score,_

Instead I lean down, lift his head and wipe a splatter of curry from his cheek with my thumb. While our eyes remain level, I chuckle saying "You're so… special" and peck him on the cheek before leaving the room. Unfortunately I don't leave quick enough to miss the grin that spreads over his face and the way that he gently touches where I just kissed him. I kick myself mentally; I can't even joke with him anymore, not without giving him more false hope, and more heartache.

_  
Love's not a competition but I'm winning  
Love's not a competition but I'm winning_

I run up to my room and collapse on my bed, wanting to pound the ceiling in frustration. Why does he have to care, why do I have to care? Why have I got the upper hand so that every time I'm with him I feel like I'm manipulating him, playing him in a battle he can't win? _  
_

_At least I thought I was but there's no way of knowing,  
_

I sigh, clenching my fists and digging my nails into my tender skin. Slowly though the frustration ebbs away and I unfurl my balled fists. Raising my hand to my face I see the crescent shaped welts in my skin. In a sort of epiphany I stare at the angry red marks and realise that I'm not winning. I hurt just as much as him. True, I'm the reason for the hurt, but the hurt that we're sharing is equal. In disappointing him I'm disappointing myself.

_At least I thought I was but there's no way of knowing,_

As I lie, aware but not listening to the sound of the TV, of Rex chirping of the monotonous hum of the dishwasher, the only question that's spinning in my mind is why.

_You know what it's like when you're new to the game but I'm not,_

Of course the answer to my question scares me. I'm not naïve; I'm also not new at this. I'm fully aware that love can be painful, can cut you up into a thousand tiny pieces until you're not you anymore. But as I lie on my bed, hearing Connor's footsteps as he goes to his bedroom and quietly closes the door, I realise that I really don't have any choice.

_I won't be the one to disappoint you,_

Heart hammering with the force of my decision I get off my bed, straighten my top and silently leave my room. Standing outside his door doubt threatens to turn me, back to the limbo-like state and safety of before. But I realise that I cannot keep up pretence, cannot see the disappointment in his eyes one more time. So I knock on the door. Connor opens it, a look of confusion on his now-curry-free face, I don't normally knock. Distracting myself with his eyes, the slight furrow of his brows and the way his mouth is ever so slightly parted as if to speak, I take a breath.

_I won't be the one to disappoint you anymore_

And press my lips to his.


End file.
